Essence Divided
by Grey Grim
Summary: Snape is tortured by Voldemort because he cannot make a certain potion. Feeling useless he seeks Hermione's comfort and help as a young woman and as a skilled potions student. Eventual HGSS. Review and I'll return the favour.
1. Proposals and Punishments

'You will make this potion for me, Severus, or,' the Dark Lord bared his teeth in what he obviously thought to be a sinister smile, 'you will suffer.' He swept his fingers lovingly along his wand, his crimson eyes following their movement with apparent interest.

'As I have said, my Lord,' Snape began shortly. 'No such potion exists with the effects you are demanding. There is no potion to even emulate what --'

Lord Voldemort, having been listening with seemingly only a vague interest sat upright on his throne.'I have little patience, Severus. Your loyalty is questionable already and I demand you do this to redeem yourself. I am certain you are capable of creating potions, are you not? Especially if you need to. Even more so if you need to to preserve your own life.'

Behind his silver mask Snape's eyes raised to his master. They were filled with unconquerable fear. Instinctively, he closed off his mind, shielded it against the damage that could be done, protecting himself from insanity. He was more than capable of sacrificing his body's safety for his mind.

'_Crucio_,' the Dark Lord's voice drawled.

Snape was seized with pain instantly. Surgical blades were piercing every inch of his flesh, white hot and searing his body. As he felt his skin begin to bubble and blacken the curse was lifted. Voldemort's wand was directed somewhere else, no longer as a weapon but merely in a directionary manner. 'Lucius. Deliver our _friend_,' he sneered, 'back to the border of the school. Do not allow yourself to be seen, the Azkaban guards are becoming irritable at having to repeatedly allow your _escape_.' He turned and walked further into the cavern serving as his lair and allowed the tall, savage blonde to roughly drag Snape to his unstable feet.

'_Portus_.' he commanded a clasp at his throat, removing it deftly. He forced it unceremoniously into Snape's shivering hands and they both felt a tug towards Lucius' chosen destination. At the gates of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Lucius laid his colleague down in the early snow and delivered a swift, powerful kick to his head, successfully knocking him unconscious. Stepping quickly outside of Hogwarts' grounds he apparated away, leaving Snape to be discovered in the morning.

As a prefect, when Hermione heard about a disturbance at the edge of the grounds, she asked the student reporting it exactly what had happened before resolving to go immediately to the scene. The student, however, was so distressed, apparently by what she had seen that it was all Hermione could do to convince her to lead the way to the place she had seen - the something. Upon reaching the gates topped with winged boars Hermione saw the exact reason for the fifth-year's panic. Barely recognisable lying in a struggling heap on the floor was none other than the most formiddable teacher in the history of the school.

'Go to Dumbledore. The password's 'Ice Mice'. Tell him he's needed straight away and bring him here.' Hermione watched as the girl ran for the castle and then turned, wide-eyed to her potions teacher. He was trying to form words but they were barely discernible amid his groans of agony and, Hermione was sure, misery. She didn't know what she should do. She settled for conjuring a pillow and attempting to slip it under his head. He rebuked her from where he lay, writhing away from her outstretched hands. She sat back on her heels and spoke soothingly to him. She had to know. 'Does he know? Did You-Know-Who find out about you?'

Snape's eyes widened madly and he feverishly pulled his head away from her.'No...' he managed to say. 'No...'

'You're okay now. You're back at Hogwarts. Safe.' All Hermione could think of doing until Dumbledore arrived was calm him but that seemed impossible. At the mention of Hogwarts his eyes widened again, almost bursting from his head.

Hermione frantically turned her head hoping the fifth-year hadn't been delayed. As she did so she saw the glimmer of silver that undoubtedly meant Dumbledore was on his way. Despite his antiquity he was moving at a tremendous pace, anxiously but boldly approaching the place where Snape lay.

'Severus,' he whispered as he crouched beside Hermione, 'Is the Order safe? Does Voldemort know about you?' Again, Snape's only response was an attempt to wriggle away from their questions.

'I've tried to ask but he's absolutely petrified. He's only managed to say 'No' but I don't think he even understood what I said to him. Where's Vibora?' Hermione looked around the grounds for the girl that had found Snape.

'I have sent her back inside to her dormitory. I suggest you follow suit. Though I don't expect you will take my advice on this matter.' His grave eyes twinkled momentarily before he turned back to Snape. 'Severus, I must take you to Poppy. She can help you. Can you walk?'

Snape shuddered in response and Dumbledore nodded. Withdrawing his wand from his robes he murmered '_Mobilocorpus_.' and directed Snape's convulsing form towards the oaken doors of the school, following at a brisk pace. Hermione strode along side the Headmaster, watching Snape's figure with palpable anxiety. No-one saw them as they made their steady progress to the hospital wing, which Hermione suspected was not merely luck. Madame Pomfrey came bustling over to them immediately and almost shrieked aloud when she saw the tortured state of the professor. Professor Dumbledore levitated him onto a hospital bed and briefly explained to the nurse that he had been found at the entrance to the school and was to be left completely alone to recover. Madame Pomfrey placed tall curtains, which had seen much use, around Snape's bed and Dumbledore stepped outside them to address Hermione.

'What now?' the sixth-year asked as soon as she saw him emerge.

'Now? We wait.' He said calmly. 'But we do not wait here. Go to your dormitory for now, attend your classes as usual. Do not, I repeat do _not_, tell anybody of this, Severus would not thank you for informing his students. Now, I must inform the staff and the Order.' Dumbledore strode from the wing, holding the door open for Hermione, who politely followed him through. She wandered distractedly towards Gryffindor tower and thought about the hideous pain Snape must have endured to appear in that condition. Surprisingly she felt compassion flood her heart and manifest itself as discomfort in her throat and tears welling in her eyes. She fought them down and stepped through the portrait hole. She was met by Vibora, the fifth-year.

Fiercely meeting Hermione's evasive eyes with her own, she asked, 'Will Snape be okay?'


	2. The Patient's Plans

The congealed blood had been washed from his ebony hair, which now lay silkily across the starched pillows, which were only a single shade whiter than his skin. His eyes were shut, as if in sleep, and his eyelashes formed solid gauges of black on his ashen skin. Hermione leant forward to brush stray locks of jet hair from his face and his grave lips parted slightly. He stirred uncomfortably and his obsidian eyes opened and focussed slowly on Hermione's figure.

'Miss Granger,' he announced. His attempt to sit up was impaired by Dumbledore suddenly reaching forward and restraining the invalid's shoulders. Relenting, Snape leant back into his bleached cushions and closed his eyes momentarily. 'Has he done as I suggested?' he directed at Hermione, nodding his head painfully towards the Headmaster. 'I informed him that you are at worst more capable than many probable applicants.'

'I am honoured, Professor - Professors,' she corrected, looking to Dumbledore. 'But, adept as I may be at Potions, I must continue in my other lessons. How could I do both?' She looked between the two men, aware of Dumbledore's patient smile and Snape's disbelieving sneer.

'Remind me,' Snape scorned, 'who exactly were the other applicants?'

Hermione looked greatly affronted but her glare quailed into pity as Snape began coughing and gasping for breath, healing cuts bleeding afresh as the skin split yet again.

'I will speak to Professor McGonagall right away, Sir.' she assured the two once Snape had recovered from his fit.

She strode towards the door of the hospital wing and reached for the ornately carved brass door-handle when it creaked gingerly open of its own accord. Hermione stood back to permit access to the entrants. Behind the varnished doorframe stood Professor McGonagall. Anxiously close behind her stood the fifth-year girl, Vibora.

'Ah, excellent.' Dumbledore beamed. 'Please, come here, Vibora. Minerva, I believe Miss Granger requires a word.'

Hermione watched Dumbledore summon Vibora forward and attempt to coax an apology from Snape. She watched with mild amusement as the cantankerous potions master was presented with grapes.

'Well?' McGonagall interupted Hermione's observations.

Hermione's mouth opened, closed, and reopened with dialogue properly prepared. 'Professor McGonagall, am I correct in believing you did not return the Time-Turner I used in my third year to the Department of Mysteries?'

McGonagall's eyes narrowed noticably at this as ahe said in a suspiciously quiet tone 'Yes, as is usual, you are correct.'

Hermione nodded her acknowledgement. 'Professor Snape has asked if I may teach in his stead until he returns to health and I will need the Time-Turner returned to me if I intend to fulfil Professor Snape's wishes.'

McGonagall looked temporarily stunned and, after making several non-comittal noises accompanied by spasmodic motions she consented and went to retrieve the small, magical hourglass. While she was absent, Hermione joined Snape's visitors and smiled mischievously at the grapes sitting in his lap. This smile quickly erupted into giggles as Dumbledore broke one of the slender stems and popped a bright, round grape into his mouth before offering a second to Snape, who politely refused and turned to Hermione.

'You laugh at me.' he stated simply, arching one dark eyebrow.

Hermione's cinnamon eyes met his onyx orbs and she sobered. 'No, Sir.'

'Twenty points from Gryffindor for your lies. A further five for you delivering them so disastrously.' He looked at the distracted fifth-year to whom he quite possibly owed his life. Her innocent beryl eyes were casting around the hospital wing, as if familiarising with its layout. The Potions Master seemed to be contemplating excluding her from his torment until her eyes defiantly met his.

'And yet another twenty points from you for your - adventure - so far from the dormitories so late after curfew.' He then turned to his grapes and, grinning darkly, tore the skin from one with his sharp, crooked teeth. As his eyes turned once again onto Hermione his subconscious was plotting. She could make any potion. She could just as easily invent one. With this plan formulating he was ignorant, though not unaware, of Dumbledore's impending generosity.

'That reminds me. Two-hundred points to Vibora for her sensible actions in reporting this straight to a prefect.'

Vibora paused in her keen observance of the hospital and its contents to smile dutifully at the headmaster.

'And another two-hundred to Miss Granger for her wisdom and for ensuring the safety of Professor Snape, the students of this school and - others.'

His blue eyes twinkled conspiratorily with Hermione's as she understood by 'others', the professor meant the Order of the Phoenix.

McGonagall returned at the exact time when Madame Pomfrey entered and, reminding Dumbledore of his own words, declared that so many visitors were hindering Snape's recovery and instructed them unceremoniously to leave.

Vibora, Hermione and McGonagall walked together to Gryffindor tower. McGonagall passed Hermione a fine golden chain, its hourglass swinging briefly before Vibora's covetous eyes.


	3. Thicker than Water

'Lumos.'

Merciless wandlight beamed suddenly through the shadows of the hospital wing, unveiling four figures, two slim and elegant and two mountainous bulks. All four stood surrounding the only occupied bed in the hospital dormitory.

'Get out.' Hissed a dominant, female voice, gesturing towards the door. The two lumbering forms shuffled towards the door, shutting it behind them with a dull thud.

The two lithe figures stood in marblesque stillness for a few silent moments before spontaneously moving into simultaneous action. The smaller of the two quickly dropped the bag from her shoulder and stooped to remove candles and sand. Her taller, more masculine double stood over the bed and began casting silencing and sedating charms upon its occupant.

Vibora forged a circle with the effulgent sand and ignited the candles with a graceful flick of her wand. She then sat down and beckoned to her cousin to join her.

Draco cautiously grasped his relative's offered hands and awaited her words. She grinned cruelly at his nervous countenance and he reformed his delicate facade. The dark-haired woman, now satisfied, threw back her head and began to intone;

'Through blood, through bond, through family line,

What flows in his veins flows in mine

And if we seek to join of part

The path lies in not name, but heart.

So let him walk as three men do

That trail to here to earn what's due.'

While Draco shuddered at the drop in depth of Vibora's voice as the chant was completed, he awaited with anticipation the arrival of his father. Carrying his semi-conscious cousin from the sand circle, he watched as a portal opened, stretching and distorting the floor. From within the chasm, bathed in opaline luminescence a swirling, rotating figure began to emerge. Draco, suddenly remembering Vibora's instructions, unsheathed a knife from within his cloak and clasped the blade between his own and his cousin's palms. The resulting blood he allowed to fall only within the sphere of light before knitting the skin of their wounds closed.

The candles all inexplicably extinguished and the hospital was plunged into darkness so absolute that it oppressed the senses. Draco, mindful of the spells inaccuracies and fearful of its results, drew his wand. Before he had raised it, an eloquent voice announced 'Aduros,' and the candles burst into renewed life, hovering feet above the ground.

Within remnants of the charred circle stood a tall, blonde figure, draped in a spartan linen robe. Devoid of his usual embroidery of silvers and greens, the Death Eater was no less imposing. His grey eyes fell upon Vibora and he gently lifted her from his son's arms. 'Enervate,' he said, directing his wand at her.

Vibora opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of her perturbed uncle's silvery gaze. She stood elegantly and, leaving her kinsman's embrace, guided him by hand to where Snape lay in silent slumber; spellbound.

'Colloportus.' Lucius aimed his wand at the heavy oak doors to the ward. He gazed coldly down at Snape. He lifted his hand from the linen sheets and observed with vague interest and amusement as it fell limply to his side once more. His head swung towards his son. 'Potion or charm?'

'Charm, sir.' Replied Draco, arms stiffly at his side, body at attention. Only his eyes betrayed the slightest anxiety that his father was displeased.

A controlled smile reached Lucius' lips and Draco's stance relaxed minutely.

Summoning a crystal phial from the far side of the hospital wing, Lucius held his hand out, palm up to his son.

Draco did not respond. His eyes gazed intently at his father who, removing his eyes from Snape's inanimate figure, sneered disdainfully at Draco. 'The knife, child.'

Sullenly, Draco surrendered the polished dagger to his father, it was still stained with his own and Vibora's blood.

As it passed hands, Vibora discreetly murmured 'Scourgify,' and her cousin's mistake was removed before his father saw it.

Swiftly and callously, Lucius pierced his ally's flesh, allowing the fountain of blood to fill the phial. 'Insurance,' he explained to Vibora's intrigued eyes. 'Dispose of this mess.' Lucius momentarily hesitated before turning the hilt of the emerald encrusted dagger to Draco.

'Accio,' he pointed his wand to an unused pillow and muttered 'Portus,' to it. Smiling savagely he whispered 'For your mother, at the Riddle House.'


	4. A Useful Spy

'Goodbye.' Draco whispered to the silence. His grey eyes grew cold as he turned to look at Snape in his bed situated by the ashen circle.

'Come, let's leave.'

Vibora looked grave as she turned to her cousin. Her mournful eyes lingered on Snape and she blinked as her eyes grew bright. She looked down at the scar on her hand and approached the bedside. Pulling back the sheets covering the Potions Master, she revealed a deep wound in his abdomen. She silently healed it with the touch of her hand, displaying her powerful brand of wandless magic. With a dignified swish of his wand, and an utterance of '_Evanesco_,' Draco cleared the spilt crimson blood from the sheets and the floor.

At the same time, luxuriously sprawled across his throne within the dank cavern he had adopted for his meetings during the day, the Dark Lord raised a chalice of the same blood to his lips and flickered his tongue out over the rim of the goblet, dipping appreciatively into the viscous substance.

Lucius grimaced and looked away, meeting the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, who laughed at his cowardice. 'It's good to hear from Vibora that a father and his son are so alike,' she cooed mockingly.

Lucius sneered and said, 'Maternal inheritance, you'll find.'

Bellatrix silently fumed but feigned ignorance and turned back to admiring her Master. Rodolphus appeared amongst their ranks and knelt before their Lord Voldemort before hastening forward and whispering confidences in his ear.

The pale wizard grinned his reptilian grin and signalled for Rodolphus to leave. He was obeyed instantly.

Voldemort stood to address his followers. 'We have good news, my friends. A spy has been found to swell our ranks with both the courage and intellect to provide us with _useful_ information.' A figure swathed in shadow stepped up to Voldemort and knelt to swear his allegiance. Lucius' eyes widened in indignated shock as he recognised the vivid red hair contrasting with the cool silver mask.

'_Morsmordescra_.' The Dark Lord stained the freckled skin of the Weasley with the serpent-tongued menace which adorned the forearms of all of Voldemort's subjects. As the initiation occurred, Lucius felt a familiar burn scorching his own flesh; the mark was blackening.

After witnessing the intrusion into the hospital wing by a notorious Death Eater by way of his own scrying mirror, Dumbledore flew with the speed of eagles to the hospital wing, cursing its lack of a fireplace. Despite his status as Headmaster obliging the staircases and floors of the castle to aid him on his way, he arrived too late to apprehend the villain or his summoners. Cursing in fury, he checked the wounds of the Potions Master and, once satisfied that they were successfully healed, administered wards and alarms around both the hospital wing and Snape himself. The time invested in this led to such a delayed departure that Dumbledore had not yet left when Severus sprang, as if on fire, from his bed and began raking at and savaging his own forearm. The noise of his anguished howls roused Madame Pomfrey and she dashed into the hospital wing to immediately notice the charred circle on the floor and shriek at the mark blazing on her colleague's forearm. Suppressed by their combined efforts to subdue him, Severus thrashed wildly, apparently no longer intent on destroying his own limb but instead focussed on escaping his friends clutches. Resigned to what was proving itself inevitable, Dumbledore drew his wand and, relenting his grip only slightly, stunned the younger professor and levitated him onto his bed once more. Lifting his bleeding and swollen arm from the sheets, Dumbledore's eyes grew dark and pensive. 'Someone else has gone,' he said solemnly. 'An Order meeting must be held at the soonest possible time. Poppy, please inform Minerva that owls must be sent to all members of the Order at once, paying particular attention to those with knowledge of Voldemort's inner circles and members of the Ministry of Magic.'

Madame Pomfrey sighed and, in an exasperated way, waved her hand at Snape's condition.

'I assure you, it is far more important that we investigate the reason for Voldemort's renewed vigour. After that investigation has been instigated you may provide Severus with all the attention he will allow.'

A/N - obviously I'm getting few reviews. This would bother me if I was writing this for anyone else's sake. Luckily it's all for my pleasure! Should things get better for Snape now or should I put him through more trouble? Suggestions would be nice!

Grey Grim, xx


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